Fallout: A Bishop's tale
I haven't been on this wiki in...years. Damn. Now that I keep on getting B and A's in English...I guess my writing skills have greatly improved. John Bishop II, otherwise referred by his surname, sets out on a quest to save his son from an unknown disease. Scaling the deadly, unpredictable wastes of the Nevada Wasteland, he's not alone on his quest. Chapter 1 As the weary sun drifts into sleep and the dusky sky disappearing into the night, the bright moon of the Southwest Commonwealth rises up and shines the city of New Reno in it's natural glory. The streets are crowded by weary survivors, clever traders, cynical gangsters and all sorts of its dysfunctional population. Out of nowhere, a man came running...with a boy in his arms. The man, dressed in black slacks, dress shoes and a rolled up white shirt supported by grey suspenders, is running. From street to street to each corner and corner, he is running with a boy in his arms. He is almost out of breath but kept on running because to him, he is losing time. The man stops for a brief moment, scanning his surroundings as the New Reno citizens look in confusion. The man notices the bright neon medicinal sign and sprints towards the shop with the neon sign. "Doc, open the goddamn door!" As the man continues to yell like a wild dog outside a barn, the doctor quickly opens the door. The well dressed man barges in with the child and quickly sets him on the clinic bed. "Help him...please help him..." The desperate words of the teary well dressed man reaches to the ears of the old doctor. The doctor calls out to his assistant. "Donnie! Get the torch and gimme a hand!" The assistant rushes in with a silver torch and hands him the tool. The doctor checks the boy's temperature then moves to opening his eyes, using the torch to check signs of infections. "Temperature is high but the eyes don' tell me he's got some infections. Thank god he's still breathing." Says the doctor. He turns to the well dressed man and crosses his arms. "What happened, Mr Bishop?" Bishop, teary eyed, looks to the doctor as he stumbles his words. "He...he's sick...Coughing up blood just a few minutes ago and his chest was going up like something was gon' come out." The doctor nods slowly and looks to the sleeping boy. "I'm pushing fifty-five and in all my years, I haven't seen this shit before. It's new to me. All I could say is he's got some...disease or something. Not radiation or anything. Probably something that only pre-war books have information on. I can't say how long your son would last since I don't know." Bishop slowly goes to his son and rests his head on his son's chest, letting out a sigh of sadness. "Then I'll find a cure." He comes back up and looks to the doctor. "I'll venture out and make sure Tommy will get his cure. Any father...would go this far to save their loved ones." The doctor grins. "Crazy bastard you are. A great contrast from your grandpa." Bishop goes up to the doctor and places his hand on his shoulder. "I'm trusting you...with all my life to look after Tommy. Take care of him, doc." The doctor smiles and brushes Bishop away. "The kid won't die that easily. He's got the Bishop willpower." Bishop nods and before he leaves the clinic, he kisses his son's forehead, whispering "You'll be OK, son." Leaving the clinic, Bishop stands for a moment, contemplating on his son's uncertain fate. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a cigarette and a lighter. He puts the cigar between his teeth and lights it and smokes away his sorrow. He then begins his walk to the Shark Club. Chapter 2 The sun slowly rises, the bright city returns to becoming a husk of a town. Eager traders set up their shops, the gangsters sat on benches, smoking and watching the people and others ran to do their usual, boring jobs. In the Shark Club, the Bishop gangsters had their heads on the tables, drunk and passed out. The bartender, cigar in his mouth, cleans the glasses, bottles and all cutlery and plates and bowls while scowling in frustration. In the back of the rooms lies Bishop's office. Dressed up in dark blue jeans, brown plaid shirt, black boots, dark brown newsboy cap and a dark green jacket, Bishop packs his needed items onto a duffle bag to journey out in the Nevada wasteland. A map, several stimpaks, a bottle of beer, seven hundred caps in seven bottles and a 9mm pistol with just enough ammunition. He grabs the bag and leaves the room. As he walks to the front of the club, the bartender calls him out. "Boss!" he loudly says. Bishop turns around and the bartender throws him the keys. "Thanks Joe!" Bishop says to the bartender. Bishop leaves the club and sets his bag into the back of his blue pickup truck. He opens the car door, sits in and turns on the engine. The car is ready to go. Bishop turns his head to some of his 'employees'. "I'll be gone for a while. A month or so. Keep the place tidy, alright? And for the love of god, don't drink too much. And don't let those Wright assholes get to you. Got it?" The gangsters nod in respect and they wish their boss luck. Bishop grins and drives to Virgin Street. He stops briefly and honks the car, signalling the gatekeepers to open the entrance gate. As the gates open, Bishop drives through and begins his journey. Driving through the wasteland, he sees all sorts of familiar sights. The light brown desert filled with broken down vehicles, skeletons, bugs and pre-war junk. He turns on the radio in his truck, tuning to the music stations. He grabs a cigarette pack from the glove compartment, takes out a cigarette and lights it as he drives. He takes his time driving as he admires the view of the wasteland. "Beautiful." He mutters. To him, the wasteland is beautiful despite looking harsh and dreadful. Bishop looks into the rear mirror and notices something moving in the back of the truck. He gets the immediate impression that something is under the covers. He stops the truck, turns off the engine and takes out his pistol. He opens the truck door and gets out, slowly walking towards to the back. He stops, cocks his gun and as he grabs hold of the sheet covers, he quickly removes it and points his gun to the stowaway. But this wasn't an ordinary stowaway. The stowaway is a child. Dressed up in blue jeans, plain white t-shirt and sneakers, she clutches her courier bag. "Uh...hi." She nervously chuckles. Bishop sighs. "Get out. Now." He calmly says. The girl nods and stands up. Bishop picks her up by the waist and puts her down. "What the hell...are you thinking?" The girl stands defiantly. "I wanna help." She says in a bold, confident tone. Bishop shakes his head disapprovingly. "Sarah...how did they not see you." Sarah widens her eye. "Uh...". She turns to her bag and scuffles through the insides, pulling out a stealth boy. Bishop again shakes his head disapprovingly. "No wonder. Eight years old and knows how to use one of these." Sarah puts her stealth boy back in the bag. "I'll be nine soon ya know!" "In December." He retorts. "Your birthday is a long way, dummy. Didn't your great-grandmother teach you math?" Sarah gives the impression of a lost soul from that question. "You know what? Don't answer that." Bishop takes a look around the area he's in and sighs deeply. "It's too late for me to drive you home. I guess you're stuck with me...isn't father-daughter bonding just fun?" Sarah sulks and rolls her eyes. "Naw, don't pull off that face, young lady. Your ol' man won't be happy." He grins. "Let's not stand around here. Hop in before a deathclaw gets you." Sarah turns around and gets into the truck, placing her bag onto the floor of the passenger seat. Bishop follows through and turns on the engine, closing the door next to him. "Can I drive?" Sarah says in an excited, happy tone. "In a million years! When we get back home...you're gonna get grounded." Sarah's expression goes from happiness to embarrassment the moment Bishop says that sentence. He smiles, amused of his daughter's reaction and continues to drive through the wasteland. Chapter 3 The day slowly comes to an end. The sun slowly drifts into sleep and its kind brother which is the moon takes its place as the bright source of light of the night. Bishop drives his car to an abandoned, broken bridge. He parks the car and turns of the engine, putting the keys into the glove compartment. "We'll camp here for the night." Bishop says. He turns his head to Sarah who's reading a book with a flashlight on. "Turn off the flashlight, it'll spoil your eyes and attract attention." Bishop says in a stern tone. Sarah turns off her flashlight and closes her book. "Yes, Pa." Bishop smiles and places his hand on her head, patting her. "Ya know, you'll learn something about the wasteland when you're older. It may seem...eh...tough and brutal but this wasteland has this beautiful vibe. A nice scenery when the sunset comes or the night or whatever." Sarah turns to her dad and asks him a question. "Dad, how old were you when you...started exploring?" Bishop perks his lips, clicks his tongue and nervously turns his head around. "I was...eight when I started." Sarah gasps and becomes annoyed. "Then how come I can't?" Bishop sighs. "You're...young that's why." "Oh bull!" She says loudly. Bishop quickly hushes her. "Look, at that time it was tough. Eight year old me hated being around the city. Hated being around the people. I hated your great-grandfather. Him along with the city and people were the reason I started adventuring. There was nothing I had in common with your great-grandpa or any of those people. I enjoyed hanging with kids from farms or trader families than the shitheads at the city. I even ran away for three years." "Three years!?" Sarah exclaims loudly. Bishop again hushes her. "Yeah...three years. It all started 21 years ago. I banded with a caravan from the Mojave. Great people. One of them gave me this." He points to his cap. "Being with those people...I learned so much about the wasteland. I learned the art of trading, how to charm, repair and...how to fight. Gary, who was kinda the leader of the caravan, taught me this code. He told me it was words to live by. He told me this." Bishop clears his throat. "The world we live in, survival is how we live. Only wolves can survive, not the cattle." He notices the wide eyed expression of Sarah's, possibly in awe of the philosophy. "Yeah. That's what he told me. Each day as we the caravan goes, he would bring me out, hand me a rifle or a pistol and would tell me to shoot a bottle. The first practice I was excited, being able to shoot n' all. But each day gotten tougher. He would yell at me for every time I miss. His voice gotten really hoarse from my daily practices but he knew it was worth it. I gotten so good I shot a bottle without looking. If it weren't for him...I wouldn't survive the wasteland on my own. Other than the typical gun training, he showed me how to fight with fists and melee. Like the gun training, it was worth it, even if I got a couple of cuts and a broken arm. After he died, there was only one thing I could ever remember him by." Bishop hides his sadness by a soft smile, not wanting to ruin his 'tough guy' image to his daughter. Sarah directs her eyes to the cap, realizing what her father meant. She leans forward and hugs Bishop. Suddenly, a loud scratch from the back emerged. A roar follows through with disturbing animal-like noises. Bishop shields his daughter and quickly grabs his pistol. He wildly sprays his bullets onto the creature, each bullet hitting but not exactly damaging it. Sarah's terrified screams reaching through the dark of night "Fucking deathclaw!" Bishop yells in anger. The creature itself is a deathclaw. It's skin is dark, mixed with black and green. Eyes bright yellow, horns sharp as a blade, the face of a demon or a dragon from a fairy tale but of course, true to its name, the claws clearly symbolize death. He continues firing but naturally, he runs out of bullets. The deathclaw goes around the truck and Bishop continues shielding his daughter as he switches sides in the truck. He quickly reloads and continues firing. The deathclaw roars in anger and attempts to grab Bishop's leg. Bishop kicks away the deathclaw's claw and empties his gun onto the creature as it goes around again. "Dammit!" He exclaims. "Sarah, get the sawed-off under the glove box NOW!" Sarah tries to reach for the shotgun but fails in getting it. The gun barely out in her reach. "I can't!" She yells. The deathclaw breaks through the window, grabbing hold of Sarah's hair. Her terrified screams grew louder and Bishop quickly grabs hold of the double barrel under the glove box compartment. He points the gun to the deathclaw's closed up face and shoots it, the bullets not hitting Sarah herself. The deathclaw lets go of Sarah's hair. This time, the deathclaw feels the real pain. The monster vents out its vicious anger and attempts to grab Bishop. Bishop, having quick reflexes and knowing the power of a 12 gauge, blows off the deathclaw's arm. The deathclaw stops dead at its tracks, covers its bleeding stump and stumbles to the side. As Bishop reloads his shotgun, the deathclaw turns its head to the man, furious than ever. It lets out a terrifying roar...only to have its head partially blown off. "Jesus!" Bishop exclaims in shock. Sarah tightly holds onto Bishop, still panicking. Bishop turns around and looks out the window. On a small hill is a man in a large coat and a ocean blue bandana covering his face. He was holding a hunting rifle and raises his hands in the air as he slowly comes down. "I come in peace...don't shoot me." The mysterious man calmly says. Bishop points his shotgun to the man, still on the defensive. "Dad, what are you doing!? He saved us!" Bishop stares coldly at the man. "Those who say that don't mean it...and not to be trusted." He says cynically. The mysterious man stops walking and slowly brings his rifle down to his feet. He takes off his bag and sets it down. "Little girl, your daddy is doing what's necessary. Don't get mad at him for that." Bishop, still pointing his gun, nods slowly. He realizes that the man understands the way of life in the wasteland. "I'm gonna get outta my truck and I will judge on whether you'll live or not. Men like you should know this." "Fine by me." The man replies. Bishop gets out the truck, still aiming at the man. He slowly makes his way to him and grabs the man's bag with his other hand, putting it behind him. "Take it off." Bishop says in a cold expression. The man nods and takes off his bandana, putting it in his coat pocket. The man's face is scarred on both sides of his cheek, as if the scars resemble a smile. Bishop still is aiming his gun at the stranger. "Now...I am grateful you saved me and my daughter from that deathclaw. Really am but...it doesn't mean I should trust you. I've seen people who done good for people but are really just backstabbing rats." "I don't care if you don't want to trust me, man. You clearly know what's up." "Uh huh. You from around here?" "No. Are you?" "New Reno." "Heh. I'm from the Mojave. Goodsprings. "You're a prospector aren't you?" "Like any man surviving in this shithole. Got a name?" "...John. You?" "Well, I might as well be careful unlike you. Just call me...Rust. Like that car of yours. A rust bucket." "Alright, Rust. My little girl over there is Sarah." Sarah waves nervously. "Howdy." Rust says in an amused tone. Now, considering you are grateful...don't suppose you can do me a favor since I saved you and your kid's life." "And what would that be?" "Well...you drop me off at Vault City and we'll part our ways from there. Sound good?" Bishop thinks briefly for a moment. He then nods in agreement. "Yeah...I'll drop you off there. But it could also do good for me. Might need to resupply and hopefully look for help from the doctors." "Doctors?" "My son...he's dying. An unknown disease is slowly killing him. A month or two and he's a goner. And I ain't losing my family...not again." "That's noble of you. A good man you are. Now, let's not get all sad and teary eyed. Let me hop on the truck." "Fine. But on one condition...your guns stay with me. Got it?" "A careful man like you? How could I say no?" Bishop realizes the man might be silver-tongued despite the looks. Still on the defensive, he goes to the man and starts searching his pockets. A small pistol, a knife and a grenade. "Why do you have a grenade?" Bishops asks. "Reasons." Rust says amusingly while grinning. Bishop stops checking the pockets and signals Sarah to collect the guns by quickly turning his head to the side. She collects the weapons and puts them in the truck and does the same with the bag. She sits in the trucks and gives a thumbs up, signalling Bishop that the guns are inside. "Alright, Rust. Get on the truck...slowly." Rust nods and makes his way to the back of the truck. He sits back and relaxes, arms behind his head and feet kicked up. Bishop gets in the car, but doesn't stop aiming. "Don't suppose you have a cigarette...yeah?" Rust asks while still relaxing. Bishop gets a cigarette out and passes it to Rust through the truck's back window. He lights the cigarette and puts away his lighter. "Cheers." Rust says as he smiles. Bishop, despite seeing how relaxed Rust is, keeps a defensive position. His head still turned to Rust while the shotgun is on the counter. Sarah then rests her head on Bishop's arm, hugging it tightly before falling sleep, finding peace quickly despite the horrific encounter with the deathclaw. "Ya know, John...staring at me for the next several hours won't do you any good. I won't steal your truck and by god, it would be difficult for me to get my stuff back. Just sleep like a normal person ya idiot." Bishop's eyes grew heavy. He mustn't sleep. He must stay alert to protect himself and Sarah. The constant blinking didn't do any good for Bishop as his eyes grew heavier and heavier, as if he was walking a long road carrying a bag full of bricks. The battle between staying up and falling sleep grew fiercer. Staying up is like a man carrying a small knife against a man carrying a sledgehammer. No matter how hard the man with the knife tries to fend off his attacker, it's in vain...as the man with the sledgehammer delivers a vicious final blow. Chapter 4 The sun dawns over the weary sky, the light shining everything in its path. Suddenly, Bishop awakes up, gasping and shaking his head like a wild animal. As he calms down, he sees the hood of the truck opened and hears the sound of tools being used on the engine. Noticing Sarah sleeping soundly beside his shoulder, Bishop slowly and gently places his daughter's head on the seat as he exits the car. He takes a step forward and sees Rust tending to the engine. "What are you doing?" Bishop asks, suspicious of the scavenger's current action. "Take a wild guess, city boy." Rust replies in an annoyed voice. Bishop takes a quick glance at what Rust is doing, his hands dirtied by the oil and using a wrench on the engine. He's fixing the engine. "I can see you're...repairing the engine...right?" "Upgrading it more or less. After all.." Rust closes the hood and cleans his hands with the towel behind his pants. "This is the only method of transportation and I really would want to make sure this ride doesn't get fucked over by raiders or deathclaws or whatever is around this goddamn wasteland." "Wow...I um...well...is there any way to repay you? After all, you did save me and my kid's ass last night and you fixed the engine. A guy like you deserves something at least." Bishop scratches his head, a nervous tic. "Well..." Rust smiles. It isn't a smile signifying greed, pleasure or evil. It's a smile signifying a humble attitude. "Like I said, all I want is just a ride to Vault City and we part our ways there. Simple as that." Bishop felt relieved, but slightly confused. A man, who risked his life to save strangers and fix the engine of a car out of pure generosity, is the kind of man who's not what most people are nowadays. In the real world, a person who commits those rare acts of kindness would demand heavy payment in caps. Rust did those acts and his payment is a mere ride to a city.Category:Jackalex13's characters and storys